


Family Secrets

by BryceWrites



Series: Broken Measures [7]
Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Big Brothers, Brother-Sister Relationships, Brothers, F/M, Family Drama, Family History, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Gen, Minor Character Death, Past Abuse, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Past Violence, Secrets, Walk Into A Bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 22:18:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3786331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BryceWrites/pseuds/BryceWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a randomly selected writing prompt. 'Write about a family secret.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't so much about one of Kelsi's family secrets, as her family kind of has all these different secrets. I don't think I wrote it directly like the prompt suggested, but it was the only thing that came to mind when I thought of this prompt. I kind of want all this backlog and back story before I introduce the other family members and I think the way I wrote this can kind of lay it out for when I do introduce the family into the story. (I wrote about drinking while I was drinking, so hopefully it makes sense. If not, please let me know.)

Juice had once told me a story about his family; how when someone turns 18, it’s a kind of tradition in his family to go to the liquor store with an aunt’s or uncle’s ID and see if they’d sell you a bottle of booze. He’d told me out of all the family he’d seen do it; only one had gotten caught and nearly ended up in jail. Everybody else had gotten away with it, even Juice himself.

He’d gotten his scalp tattoos earlier the same day, so the cashier had thought he was naturally older and didn’t even card him. He’d told me how he’d brought home the booze like a champ, getting hoots and hollers from his family about his ‘bravery’.

After he’d told me that, I realized every family has traditions. Some had family dinner on Sundays, and some wore lucky socks for their football teams, and some even tried to buy booze on their 18th birthday. But after he’d told me that story, I’d got to thinking about my own family.

I hadn’t seen them in years and for damn good reason. But I’d been the youngest and a little thought had to go into mine. We didn’t eat dinner together and my dad had liked any kind of sport if I thought about it, but it hadn’t been a tradition. We didn’t try to buy alcohol at 18 because we’d been getting it illegally since we were 15.

And it’s always harder to see those kinds of things if they’re done passively, like my family was, instead of dedicated, like Juice’s family. Mine never made a big deal out of traditions or the like. We always tried to stay under the radar with everything we did.

So when I ended up in a bar on the other side of Charming with a text message in my inbox from Juice, I finally realized what my family tradition was.

For as long as I could remember, my family had lied to each other as often as we greeted each other. My brothers would ask where I was off to at ten on a school night and I’d tell them studying with a friend, when I was off to sleep with the running back of the football team.

My oldest brother would say he was going on a motorcycle ride to find himself, but I knew he was going to do something to get arrested so he didn’t have to stay in the house with two drunken parents and two younger siblings.

My older brother told me he’d quit smoking, but his jacket would always smell like L&M Bolds, the smokes he could steal out of the convenience store a mile from the house because no one in the area liked them and the cashier didn’t give a shit about his job.

My daddy would always say he’d been late at work when all of us knew he’d been at the bar. My momma would say she never smoked in the bedroom after she’d been drinking, even though her comforter would always smell of stale smoke and spilled whiskey.

 I was five shots deep when Juice had texted me, asking where I was. I knew I was late to dinner. He’d been expecting me almost an hour ago. But today was hard. It was the anniversary of my mom’s death. It had a funny way of sneaking up on me every year, despite the fact I knew the date by heart. I hadn’t actually read the text so it wouldn’t show on Juice’s phone; just telling him he’d sent the message.

But with my third glance at the pop-up, I realized my family tradition was secrets. We lied to each other because we had wanted the rest of us to think better of us. We didn’t want the others to think poorly of us for stealing or sleeping around or leaving on purpose.

I had almost thought of typing out a reply to my biker about how I was recruited to do some extra work, but after a moment’s consideration, I realized how much detail I’d have to put into the story to make it real, and I’d left the text unread.

Another text came through, asking where I was and if I was okay.

He was starting to worry and I smiled a little at my phone, reminding my semi-drunk mind that I couldn’t actually open the text. The bartender set up another shot and I threw it back, feeling the whiskey burn all the way down. I’d always thought it was funny how I’d celebrated the death of my mom. She’d died in a house fire, falling asleep in bed, drunk, with a cigarette in her hand.

And here I was, drinking my head away. I shook it, asking for another shot before I thought too hard.

I glanced at my phone, hoping Juice wouldn’t worry too much. A voice in the back of my head told me I was being an idiot for ignoring a guy who actually gave two shits about my well-being. When was the last time somebody had texted or called to ask if I was okay because I’d missed dinner?

My finger hit reply before my buzzed brain could catch up and the next thing I knew, I’d already sent a text with the location of the bar. I set my phone back down on the bar top, ordering another shot to make a solid eight. I wasn’t drunk yet; I could see mostly straight and I could easily have walked across the room to the juke box and hit a song I liked.

I smiled a little to myself. I was barely drunk compared to my family’s standards. I’d seen my mom make mac and cheese after a 750 of Jack in an hour, and my dad had once called the ref on every play he’d made during a college game after a handle of rum.

The barkeep set me up with another shot and I was definitely enjoying the buzz I had. My phone beeped and I looked at it, starting to get fuzzy brained. Juice had typed out a reply, but I didn’t care to read it. I had long ago realized I had neither the tolerance of my parents, nor my brothers, and I was okay with that.

A motorcycle roared outside and I wondered if my mohawked old man had come to rescue me. For a brief moment, I thought ‘there’s no way he came to get me. He probably doesn’t care’ before I realized that was a stupid idea. Of course Juice would come get me if I needed him. Of course he would. He was a good man. He was reliable and caring and sincere.

So when I looked over and he sat next to me, part of me really wasn’t all that surprised. I started to smile at him before my brain reminded me I had almost lied to him. And then I ducked my head, looking away from him.

“Are you okay?” His voice rang in my head. I nodded, wanting something other than whiskey all the sudden. Juice’s voice rang in my ears again, asking the barkeep for water, which he gave me. “Why are you drinking out here?”

I bit my lip, wondering if I should tell him. “My mom died.” I said before I could think about it, sipping the water, and then realizing what I said. “Not today. Just, years ago today.”

Juice seemed to nod in the corner of my eye. “How many years?”

I shrugged. “Twelve.” And then I paused. I hadn’t meant to actually tell him how many years it’d been. I’d meant to keep aloft and care-free, like I’d only remembered today it’d been years ago.

“I’m sorry.” Juice’s voice came from next to me.

I shrugged again, feeling weak. “I was going to lie to you.” I told him honestly, wondering why the goddamn words tumbled out of my mouth.

“Why?” Juice asked before I could revise my comment.

“Secrets.” I said. I glanced at him and saw him watching me carefully. “My family does secrets the way yours does liquor at 18.” I said, hoping my words made sense in somebody else’s head besides mine.

“You have secrets the way we buy liquor at 18?” Juice asked, trying to clarify my words.

I nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it all day. Your family buys liquor at 18 and mine lies out the ass. I hold secrets the way you hold ammo.” I grinned, thinking about how funny it was.

Suddenly, I frowned, thinking about how mad he might be. It even crossed my mind for a moment that he might strike me, despite the public location. But he nodded. “Secrets are your family tradition.”

I looked at him, wondering how he’d come to the same conclusion I had. I nodded though.

He smiled, taking a sip of my water. “Do you want to go home?”

“You’re not mad?” I asked. I’d seen the way the other patrons glanced at us, at his cut. I knew what they thought of us.

Juice shook his head. “I want you to tell me these things, but I’d rather pick you up from a bar at seven at night then a hotel at nine in the morning.”

I bit my lip. “I’d never get that drunk. You know that right?” I asked. Even with being as drunk as I was, I’d never cheat on him. He meant the world to me.

Juice shrugged though. “Ya never know.”

“I love you, you biker freak. You need to know that.” I told him, turning 90 degrees in my chair to look at him.

He smiled a little. “You’re drunk as shit, aren’t you?”

I grinned widely, not being able to stop myself. “My mom’s dead and my biker was running errands.”

He smiled still, leaning forward to kiss me. “Well, let’s get you home, Drunkerella.”

I grinned again. “I like it. I’m sure I can make it home.” I told him, standing from the seat. “If my mom could make mac and cheese after a 750 of whiskey, I can hold onto you until we get home after ten shots.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Your mom made mac and cheese after drinking a whole 750?”

I smiled. “I probably went to bed with a contact drunk or something but yeah.” I told him, throwing down enough money to cover my tab and a tip before Juice wrapped his arm around my waist and I smiled, kissing him and making our way out to his bike.

The ride home was slow. Juice didn’t want me to puke all over him, despite how well I’d told him I held my liquor. Getting on the bike hadn’t been so bad, but my knees nearly buckled getting off, leaving Juice to catch me before I hit the ground which sent me into a fit of giggles.

He got me inside and into the couch with a smile on my face. He left, returning with a bag of cooked popcorn and a glass of water. “So what else don’t I know about you?”

I shrugged, looking over at him. “I’ve got secrets galore, lover.”

He smiled a little. “Everybody does.”

I shrugged again, taking a handful of popcorn. “Ask me something and I’ll tell you.”

He paused for a moment, watching me. “You never told me what happened to your back.” His words were quiet in the room, but they sounded loud in my head. Juice had been one of the few people in my life to see the scars that crisscrossed my back. My brother had much of the same scars on his back. I’d always beat around the bush when Juice would ask about them because I didn’t know if he was only passively asking and it would’ve broke my heart to tell him if he didn’t really care.

I turned to him, wanting to see if he really wanted to know. He watched me, trying to see if I’d really tell him. “My dad.”

Juice was silent for so long I thought he’d got off the couch. I had to look back at him to see if he was still there. “You never told me your dad beat you.”

I shrugged, feeling it was the only thing to do with my body. “Never hit my ma, but sure as hell went after us kids.”

“You and your brothers?” He asked.

I nodded. “The oldest got some here and there, but pa never liked the fact he got twins, and a girl on top of that.”

Juice shook his head, looking sad. “He gave all those to you?”

“Except for the one from Danny when he threw me into the mirror.” I said, picking up some more popcorn. I knew for a fact Juice’s step-dad had never left any marks on his skin, his damage solely being on the inside. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to think I had this thing with abusive guys.” He watched me carefully, like he didn’t understand my words. “You’re not like that. I didn’t want you to think you were.”

He nodded, seeming to understand now. “You’d tell me if I ever hurt you, right?”

“If you wanted me to.” I spoke up, nodding a little.

“I want you to tell me. Even if it’s something stupid and it hurts your feelings. Tell me.” He said, taking a firm grip on my hand.

I looked down at our hands, intertwining with each other. It made me happy, seeing his tan skin setting against my white skin. I’d been tan for the better part of my life, spending the majority of my time outdoors. But no matter how bad I wanted to, I’d never be the kind of rich brown Juice’s skin was.

“I used to hunt and trap.” I told him, realizing I’d never spoke of it before.

He tilted his head to get a better look at me. “Oh yeah?”

I nodded. “It was the only real skill my dad taught us. I can skin a rabbit in two minutes.” I said with a smile.

He tilted his head at me. “Seriously?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Faster than either of my brothers could. Man did it piss them off.” I smiled. “I make a mean rabbit stew. Maybe we should have it sometime.”

“You’re gonna catch, skin and cook a rabbit?” Juice asked, like he didn’t believe me.

I smiled at him. “Absolutely.”

He shook his head and I could tell he didn’t believe me. It was okay. He’d sure enough believe me when he came home to rabbit stew one night. “From now on out, no secrets.” He told me quietly, nuzzling up close to me. “If you don’t want to tell me everything from your past, that’s alright. But don’t keep anything from here out a secret.”

I nodded, agreeing with him. “I can do that. No secrets. We’ll make our own traditions.” I told him.

He grinned, leaning over to kiss me deeply. I pushed against him, enjoying the pressure. “How about we go to bed?” He whispered against my lips.

“Mmm, mind reader.” I told him, standing and stripping off my shirt as I headed for the bedroom. I could a thunk and turned to see Juice pawing at his boots to get them off. I giggled as he chased me down the hall and pinned me to the bed.


End file.
